


Grey and Slow

by inwhatfurnace



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Music, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 06:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inwhatfurnace/pseuds/inwhatfurnace
Summary: He ends up leaning rather conspicuously over the railing, but if he tilts his head just so he can pick up the sound of Solas harmonizing with her as he paints, even with the birds and books between them.





	Grey and Slow

**Author's Note:**

> me at the end of inquisition: solavellan has potential but idk I'm not sold  
> me at the end of trespasser, putting lost elf on repeat: godDAMMIT
> 
> The DA4 teaser trailer gave me the shot of fic adrenaline I needed to finish this quick little thing, which is basically just me wishing solavellan had more quieter scenes.

Sound carries easily up and down the towers of Skyhold. Smells too: the awful feather-wet of the rookery's birds and the fumes of whatever paint Solas uses on the walls mix in with the dried parchment of the library, making Dorian's usual haunt a rather pungent place. It is more than enough to make the nose wrinkle, and he's quite sure that's why Varric prefers to be out in the main hall.

This evening, though, a pretty, light hum cuts through it all, the telltale sound of their resident spymaster. It’s been the background music to the hour-long explanation of the cataloging system he's devised for the Inquisition's books to the Inquisitor herself, arguing for groupings by subject, and within that, by year of publication.

“I think it's fantastic,” she says, and Dorian resists the urge to preen. “You're fantastic.” 

“I appreciate that you appreciate me." 

“Ask Josephine to send for whatever supplies you need. I'll let her know I've approved it.”

One of the doors below them opens and closes, and they both peer over the balcony to see Solas walking across the room, stopping to appraise the section of fresco he's currently working on. Dorian's quite sure this newest piece commemorates their political machinations at Halamshiral – the deep blue of Empress Celene's dress is hard to mistake for anything else.

Lavellan's gaze lingers on Solas for a time, before she turns on her heel to pick a book seemingly at random from the shelf. She waggles her eyebrows at Dorian as she heads down the stairs, and Dorian makes sure his unimpressed snort is as loud as possible.

“Mind if I join you? I've got some reading to catch up on.” 

“Of course,” Solas replies, inclining his head. “May I ask what?” 

“Oh, er,” Lavellan flips to the title page as she makes herself comfortable on the sofa. She winces before announcing, “ _Songs Only Nugs Can Hear_?” 

“Light reading, then." Solas turns to climb the scaffold and Lavellan stares down at the book, betrayed.

Leliana must have the song she's been humming stuck in her head, because every time the melody seems to resolve it starts right back up again. It’s not a tune Dorian knows, but he admires both the song and singer as the melody grows louder and more sweeping. He ends up leaning rather conspicuously over the railing, but if he tilts his head just so he can pick up the sound of Solas harmonizing with her as he paints, even with the birds and books between them.

“You know it too?” Lavellan's voice is soft and curious. “My clan would sing it as a lullaby.” 

“It is an old song,” Solas answers. “I am glad it survives.”

Dorian’s not sure exactly when it happened, but Leliana is full-out singing now, words and all. It’s pretty enough to have the former Grand Enchanter swaying to the music across the way. Dorian knows very little Elvish, but Leliana's accent sounds easy and natural, her rounding of the vowels precise enough to convince Dorian she knows what she's singing about.

“ _Hahren_? Is the song about you, Solas?” Lavellan’s teasing grin is plain in her voice. 

“Even I am a bit younger than that,” he replies, and she laughs.

The next hour or so passes uneventfully. The candles burn down as Dorian reshelves book after book, scribbling notes to himself as he goes. At some point, Leliana stopped singing, but the music still hangs in the air.

“Well, _weary eyes need rest_ is right,” Lavellan announces, stifling a yawn. “I'm off to bed.” 

“Good night, _lethallan_.”

The Inquisitor takes the book with her – Dorian will have to track her down tomorrow, to make sure it doesn’t get left in some abandoned closet or up on a rampart.

Dorian tilts his head upwards to see Leliana above him, hands braced against the railing. She meets his eye and nods once, then looks past him to where Solas is still painting. Her gaze turns into something both far-off and exacting, like she is putting together a puzzle without all the pieces, trying to imagine detail and entirety together in her mind’s eye.

Solas drags paint across fresh plaster. The song starts up again.

**Author's Note:**

> It's the Lady Nightingale farewell tour! See her now before she becomes Divine! As always, you can find me over at [twitter](https://twitter.com/amyrran) or [tumblr](http://aetheling.tumblr.com/), and now, I even have one of those newfangled pillowforts.


End file.
